


Sunset in Africa

by MsBee



Category: Lara Croft: Tomb Raider (Movies 2001 2003), Tomb Raider & Related Fandoms
Genre: Aftermath, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Post-Canon, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-31
Updated: 2020-07-31
Packaged: 2021-03-06 06:55:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,306
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25629319
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MsBee/pseuds/MsBee
Summary: After her adventure in the Cradle of Life Lara muses about the choices she’s made.Her faithful butler Hillary tries to reassure her.
Relationships: Lara Croft/Hillary (Tomb Raider)
Comments: 8
Kudos: 9





	Sunset in Africa

**Author's Note:**

> This story takes place directly after the events in Lara Croft and the Cradle of Life.

British Ambassador’s Residence, Dar Es Salaam, Tanzania

Lara Croft leant against the stone rail of the balcony, enjoying it’s coolness even as she savoured the last heat of the day. She had been standing motionless for quite some time, watching as the glorious sunset lit up the African sky then faded as the sun slipped below the horizon. It was not quite dark yet - the dying rays still threw out a beautiful golden and red haze - but night was fast approaching.

Below her in the gardens of the British Embassy decorative string lights were flickering on, illuminating a terrace where a band was setting up to play. Sounds of the first guests arrivingdrifted distantly upwards, car doors opening and closing, accompanied by muffled laughter and greetings.

_Guest of honour at a party she didn’t want to attend. Wonderful._

Lara clamped down on the ungrateful thought. It had been kind of the Ambassador to give her and her friends a warm welcome, particularly as Hillary and Bryce had entered the country without any proper documentation. He had insisted that they stay at his residence here in Dar Es Salaam while MI6 made arrangements for the trio to return to England. As expected the government agency were even less efficient now that they’d got what they wanted from her and the promised ‘twenty four hours to get you home’ had already turned into three long days in Tanzania.

At least the Ambassador was pleased with the situation. He seemed delighted to have a titled member of the British aristocracy under his roof and Lara strongly suspected that he had arranged tonight’s party just to show off his illustrious visitor to his neighbours.

Somehow the prospect of spending an evening making small talk and smiling graciously did not appeal. ‘ _What brings you to Africa, Lady Croft?’_ was a question she dreaded. After the events of the last week she just wanted to go home. At least in England she could struggle with her feelings in peace.

The minutes ticked by and still she didn’t move. The evening was warm, a light breeze blew the scent of gardenias up from the gardens. Downstairs the party was gathering momentum, the band had started playing and groups of people stood chatting on the terrace below.

Lara glanced behind her at the frothy evening dress Hillary had left spread out on her bed. She hadn’t examined it closely, a single look at the aqua chiffon was enough to tell her that it suited her butler’s preferences better than her own. It was tempting to go downstairs dressed as she was in a thin white slip - after all she had underwear beneath, she was perfectly decent apart from a bit of cleavage - but somehow it didn’t seem fair to embarrass the kindly Ambassador in front of his friends, even if it would serve Hillary right.

As if her thoughts had summoned him she heard the door to her suite of rooms open and a familiar voice called, “Lara?”

“I’ll be down in a minute, Hillary,” Lara replied, more sharply than she intended.

Behind her the bedroom light switched on. Muted illumination spilled through the thin curtains, deepening the shadows outside. Her butler appeared at the balcony doors, his expression concerned and quizzical.

Over the years he had perfected a discreet way of entering her space, a polite hover before he approached in case he was intruding into her privacy. Although he was technically just doing his job his consideration made Lara feel bad for her ungraciousness. Hillary had been dragged into this mess because of her, the least she could do was be pleasant.

“I am coming,” she said, gently this time. She made eye contact with him and offered a small smile, “Really.”

For a moment she thought Hillary was going to tell her off for taking so long - she was supposed to be the guest of honour after all - but instead he nodded, crossed to the stone rail of the balcony and glanced over, murmuring inconsequentially, “The ambassador’s dog _really_ likes Bryce.”

Lara raised her eyebrows at the randomness of the observation but chose not to engage with it. She wasn’t in the mood for Hillary’s quirky sense of humour right now.

They stood together, an arm’s length apart, looking out into the darkness. The rays of the sun had all but disappeared, leaving the warm purple-toned clouds of night.

“Penny for your thoughts?” Hillary offered suddenly.

So he hadn’t come to chivvy her along at all. He had seen that she was depressed and he had come to talk, or more precisely, to see if she wanted to talk. In spite of herself she was impressed, confronting a woman to have a conversation about emotions was a task that would make most men - especially most _Englishmen_ \- deeply uncomfortable.

She decided to spare him the bother, “Save your money. My thoughts aren’t worth it.”

“Terry Sheridan?” he suggested. The name held a wealth of dislike.

“Should I have forgotten him already?” Lara asked, raising her eyebrows and casting the butler a sidelong look.

“No. No, of course not.” Hillary shook his head quickly, obviously aware that he was heading into dangerous territory, “It’s only natural you should be upset. You loved him-.”

If there was one thing Lara hated it was someone else telling her how she felt. “Did I?”

He looked perplexed, “You didn’t?”

“If I had ever truly loved Terry I wouldn’t have pulled that trigger.”

“But... you had no choice,” Hillary said with blunt incomprehension. “He would have taken Pandora’s Box and sold it to the highest bidder.”

Lara sighed, her irritation draining away. She might like to stand here pondering the choices she had made but when it came to it that was the truth of the situation, wasn’t it? _She hadn’t had much choice_. She had tried to spare Terry’s life, given him every chance to change his mind, but he had sealed his own fate when he drew his gun.

For one dizzy moment in the Cradle of Life she had thought - hoped - he’d decided to see things her way. It was ironic that he must have been thinking the same about her. Had Terry known her so little that he truly believed she would abandon her principles, stand aside and let him bring misery to the world? He must have been insane if he imagined whatever leftover feelings she had for him were strong enough to override her conscience.

“Sometimes,” she began unsteadily, talking as much to the air as to Hillary, “I wonder what it would be like to love someone so much that you’d give up everything. I never felt that way about Terry.” She laughed bitterly and shook her head, “Maybe I couldn’t about anyone. Terry once said I was happier alone in a tomb with a lot of dead bodies than I was in the real world with a live man for company. Perhaps he was right. Maybe there’s something wrong with me...”

She trailed off, turning away from the balcony rail to address Hillary directly. The move closed the gap between them a little and she found herself looking upwards into his shadowed face. She hadn’t wanted to talk a moment ago, but the need for another point of view to help untangle her thoughts made her ask desperately, “Have you ever loved someone so much that you would sacrifice the whole world? Just ignore your duty, your conscience - instead of losing them - because the thought of the world without them in it would be unbearable?”

The silence stretched and dragged.

His answer when it came was unwilling, his voice a soft rasp, “ _Yes_.”

Lara stared at him - or tried to. Against the light from the room he was a silhouette, tall, broad shouldered and stripped of identity.

She’d known him for most of her life, ever since his parents died and his uncle Winston, her father’s good friend and butler, became his guardian. Like her he had been sent away to school and returned for holidays at Croft Manor. They hadn’t exactly grown up together - at twelve years her senior Hillary had always seemed impossibly mature - but they had been in each other’s orbit for what seemed like a lifetime.

Suddenly Lara felt that she was standing on the balcony with a stranger. She’d never kept track of his romantic entanglements, but if she’d thought about it at all she would have said that Hillary was almost as unlucky in love as she was. Now the realisation that she’d been wrong struck her like a lightning bolt. There had been, possibly still was, some grand, overwhelming passion in his life.

To her amazement she felt a pang of jealousy - because he’d felt that way and she hadn’t? Or for some other more undefinable reason? - and she found herself desperate to know who had inspired such deep emotion in her friend.

Hillary’s expression, as far as she could make it out in the darkness, was shuttered, giving away nothing, but his hazel eyes were peculiarly alive and they held hers intently. “Is that what you really _want_ to feel? Love that drowns out everything, makes you weak?” his voice was husky. “You’re always so strong, Lara.” He hesitated then added, “And there is _nothing_ wrong with you.”

The sympathetic gentleness of his tone was like a balm but something in his gaze sent a strange trembling thrill over her skin. Suddenly her awareness of her surroundings - the warmth of the night, the smell of the gardenias, the band playing - seemed to recede. All she could think of was how different Hillary was when he was completely serious, how _attractive_.

They stared at each other, both wordless, both unwilling to break the delicious eye contact with it’s growing undertone of intimacy. They had sparred together hundreds of times, actually come a lot closer physically than this and there was always an energy in those contests, a competitive edge between them - but now there was a sparking heat in this tension that was new and different, making the sensitive areas of Lara’s body flush and prickle under the thin fabric of her slip.

Somewhere in her mind a warning voice suggested that she needed to break the exhilarating spell, step back, pretend this had intense moment never happened, because this was her oldest, dearest friend, not to mention her employee, and this was dangerous.

_But she was Lara Croft and danger was her vocation._

Somewhere in the background a door banged open and a voice hissed, “Lara? Hillary? Where are you?” It was Bryce, he sounded panicked.

Lara blinked, momentarily disoriented. She vaguely registered Hillary doing the same.

“You two have got to get down there! The Ambassador’s dog keeps following me. It just tried to hump my leg and I really think...,” Bryce appeared at the balcony doors then trailed off, suddenly becoming aware of an unusual tension in the scene. “Um, sorry, am I...”

“I told you it wasn’t shoe polish in that tin,” Hillary said quickly. He stepped away from Lara as he spoke, shooing Bryce back into the light of the room, and suddenly he was normal again - fussy, funny, faithful Hillary.

“What else could it have been? What do you think it was then?”

Hillary sniffed loudly, “Peanut butter? Don’t dogs like that?”

Bryce looked outraged, “It was black!”

“Rancid peanut butter?” the butler suggested.

Without missing a beat he took Lara’s dress from the bed and held it out to her as she entered the room behind him. She raised her eyebrows but, still slightly dazed, she took it obediently, stepping in to the gown then turning automatically so he could zip it up for her.

She focused on herself in the mirror. The dress wasn’t as bad as she’d thought, the cool blue chiffon layers gave it a dreamy, floating feel and the style was elegant. Hillary arranged the long train that hung from one shoulder, pulling it forward artfully to cover the bandage on her arm.

Behind her Bryce was sitting on the corner of her bed. He raised his foot and was pulling it toward his nose, making snuffling noises. “It’s nothing like peanuts,” he insisted.

“Bryce - it’s fine. The dog is just very friendly,” Lara said firmly, before a smirking Hillary could voice his next witticism. To distract them both she asked,“What do you think? Will I do?”

“You look lovely,” Bryce assured her, letting go of his leg and standing up.

“Pretty as a picture,” Hillary quipped. He didn’t look at her as he smoothed wrinkles out of the corner of her bedcover where Bryce’s bottom had rested.

Unwilling to turn and face him properly, Lara stared hard at his reflection. The moment on the balcony was assuming an unreal quality, as if she’d read something into the situation that couldn’t possibly have been there. Maybe her overwrought emotions were just playing tricks on her, making her imagine that a scorching current of sexual tension had briefly arced between them?

Finally Hillary stopped straightening the covers, lifted his gaze and looked innocently back at her. As always his expression was bland, perfectly combining the proper amount of warmth with a hint of respectful deference to his employer.

_Normal, he was completely normal. She had been upset. He had reassured her - surprisingly successfully, because she actually felt a lot better. She had imagined the rest._

_That was all._

“Ready, Lara?” Hillary asked softly. He and Bryce crossed to the bedroom door and stood waiting expectantly for her.

To her surprise Lara found that she was in the mood for a party after all. She lifted her chin and met their gazes with her usual confidence, “Always. Let’s go, boys.”

Squaring her shoulders she led the way down to the terrace.

**Author's Note:**

> I’m aware that there is probably more than a twelve year age difference between the actors in the movies, but as Hillary has no back story whatsoever I’m taking creative liberties.
> 
> What can I say? Lara Croft and the Cradle of Life was on the tv the other day and the chemistry between Lara and Hillary always intrigues me so I decided to write this to entertain myself. 
> 
> TBH I have no idea if there’s anyone out there who actually wants to read it. XD


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